The Witch laid her shawl on the floor of her new cabin. New to her, not new to the land. It seemed to grow out of the land, the gnarled oak, pine, and birch of the wood surrounding the cabin seemed to have bent and twist itself into the very hut she now called home. Opening the shawl, she took each item out one by one. The seeds of her homeland had come with her. She knew as she planted these trees here, the ones across the ocean would begin to wither and die. That wasn't something she wanted, but these plants couldn't fall into the wrong hands. Here, in this wild land, in this rich dirt, the trees would have a chance.